Do Your Work
by lezonne
Summary: Rose hates that Scorpius can find ways out of anything. She decides its time someone tells him why it's wrong. Light romance. Written for the Sherlock Competition Part 1 prompt #17, the Your Favorite Hogwarts House Boot Camp prompt #24, and the Character Trait Boot Camp prompt #26.


**A/n: **Written for the _Sherlock Competition _Part 1 prompt #17, the _Your Favorite Hogwarts House Boot Camp _prompt #24 (pride), and the _Character Trait Boot Camp _prompt #26 (manipulative!).

* * *

Do Your Work

"I'm hit!"

"Oh please, stop being such a baby."

"This is serious, do you know what scars look like on pale skin? It will seriously ruin my perfect body if I have even one scar!"

"Malfoy, grow up."

She stood with her hands on her hips, staring at the boy across from her. They were _supposed _to be dueling, but darling Malfoy- who _swore_ that he couldn't possibly fight a girl- was currently complaining about his supposed injury. How pathetic.

"Miss Weasley, do be more polite," their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher said, sending her a glare. The bloody man was a Slytherin teacher. He always sided with his own students whenever he could. And what's worse, he was their head of house!

"Mr. Parkinson, take Mr. Malfoy down to the infirmary if you would. Miss Weasley, a ten point deduction for harming another student when I strictly informed you to be careful."

Rose flopped down in her chair, shaking her head. It would be useless to fight over this when she very well knew that the teacher would side with Scorpius Malfoy no matter what. She would lose the battle no matter what she said.

Blasted Malfoy, now he would get out of their terrible transfiguration class next period.

Her eyes widened. That had to be it! Why else would the prat bother complaining so about such a minor little spell? It barely left a light impression on his skin. But of course, Malfoy was a manipulative little twit. If he didn't want to do something he would find a way out of it.

So of course he got hurt the class before they would be transfiguring each other! Now she understood. He was pretending. How typical of Malfoy.

Well, she'd just have to inform the teacher that he would need a make-up assignment, since they were _supposed _to be partners in that class too…

* * *

"Weasley, how many times do I have to tell you? I'm not doing anything for this class!"

"Oh yes you are Malfoy! This is our last big project for our entire fourth year. If you try to hold back then I'm going to fail- and I refuse to fail. So toughen up and quit pretending that your blasted arm hurts. You can help me with this."

He glanced down at his arm, where his terrible injury supposedly was. "I think not. I can't risk another injury while in your presence."

"Something tells me you'll be just fine Malfoy, since the first injury isn't even real. Besides, why are you so happy to pretend that a girl hurt you? I think that would be as bigger blow to your pride than anything else."

"My pride is perfectly intact, just for your information. It's my arm that's not."

"Would you stop that!? There's nothing wrong with you!"

He smirked. They had decided to work in the Great Hall today, since the librarian was tired of their bickering. "Who cares if nothing's wrong Weasley? Enough people believe my story that it doesn't even matter. Ever since your father went to the loony bin, people will believe any rumors spread about your family."

"My father isn't insane," she snapped. "He's suffering because people like _your _father tortured him at the end of the war. Now he's scarred forever- a real scar, Malfoy, not the fake ones you keep sporting."

"I'll tell you again Granger- my scars aren't fake. They are just as real as any your father has."

"My father fought in a war if I need to remind you. You were taken down by a girl with a half-arsed spell that barely touched you. There's nothing heroic about your _scar _Malfoy. You're just milking an injury."

"So what if I am?"

She screamed, throwing her quill at him. It bounced off his leg rather harmlessly, the feathers colliding with him first. "Merlin, you're so annoying! Can you try doing something for yourself for once instead of expecting other people to do your work? My mother tells me stories sometimes about your father- and he sounds just like you. Manipulative and lazy."

"My father's a great man!" he snapped, standing. "He has scars, just like yours, but at least his are honorary! He at least got them on the battlefield instead of sitting down in a cell while the war happened."

"That's not my father's fault! You're father's people didn't give him a choice!"

"Well Weasley, that's how war usually goes."

"You're just as bad as he was I bet," she snapped, gathering her things. "I don't care if we fail this project anymore Malfoy, but I'm not going to do your half! You're curel and manipulative and you're pathetic. You can't even come up with a better excuse than a girl hurting you during a class to get out of another! You milked this injury to get your friends to wait on you hand and foot just because you can. Well I'm through with it! I'm not doing another thing for you!"

She turned in a huff, stomping away with her things. He sat in the Great Hall for a long time after she was gone, ignoring the stares people shot his way. He'd never quite seen Weasley quite so worked up.

Out of everything she said to him though, one thing stuck out. He wasn't manipulating his friends. And he sure as hell wasn't admitting to being beat by a girl. He had plenty of cruel remarks to make to her on that front, but he held his tongue. He could tell that their conversation was beginning to affect her.

She was rather sensitive when it came to talking about her father.

With a groan, Scorpius stood and headed towards his room. He knew what he had to do, but he wasn't looking forward to it.

* * *

"So Weasley, I was thinking that we could work on that project again today."

"Go away Malfoy. I'm done wasting my time on you."

He rolled his eyes, shoving some papers towards her. "Look, I even did some work okay? The sling's even gone for my arm."

Arching an eyebrow she gave him an uncertain look, but nonetheless grabbed the papers. True to his word, there was actually work done on the pages. She was more than a bit surprised.

"You finally decided to work for your grade I see."

"Yeah well, my father will kill me if he finds out I failed a class."

"I'm sure he would." She collected the papers, setting them in a neat stack. "So then how about the same time, same place as yesterday?"

"Whatever."

"Great. Oh, and Malfoy?"

"What?"

"I'm glad you got rid of that bloody sling. You don't look quite as pathetic without it."

He shook his head as the bell rang and she walked away. No matter the topic, Weasley always seemed to have something to say to him.


End file.
